


M Soul, Act 2

by AlchemK



Series: M Soul [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Canonical Character Death, Homophobic Language, Infidelity, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Screenplay/Script Format, So AU it could be OU, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-09-24 17:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlchemK/pseuds/AlchemK
Summary: Act 2 of M Soul! It would be a lot better for you to have read Act 1 before you read this! And same applies for this Act- ANALYSIS AND COMMENTARY IS GREATLY APPRECIATED!! LOVE ALL OF YOU WHO ARE KEEPING UP WITH THIS M BUTTERFLY-INSPIRED AU!!Now let's jump into this 1970s mess with Hank continuing his struggles.*EDIT: Chapter 1 now has reference art I did for Connor’s clothes!*EDIT: Chapter 5 now has some art i did based on the fic!





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor live together, though looking back at it now only makes him hurt more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here’s a link to the reference art I did for his clothes and stuff!! 
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/p/Br3hRMhg_Ah/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=1jdvarlvi9f0j

_ Anderson’s prison cell. Detroit. Present.  _

_    Lights up on Anderson. He sits in his cell, drinking from the second bottle of whiskey. He brings it down after a large swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  _

 

ANDERSON: Some would have called me the biggest hypocrite. But who the fuck was I to know? I should have known Connor was too good to be true, too perfect, but I didn’t want to believe that there was a reason behind it. Connor was perfect just because  _ he was _ . Other people would say otherwise about that. Connor was blunt, stiff, but that wasn’t his fault. The flaws like those just made him even more human, I liked to believe. 

 

_ Anderson gets up, and the scene changes.  _

 

_ Anderson and Connor’s flat. Ann Arbor. 1974.  _

_    We are in a simple, but lived in parlor. Anderson moves to sit on a sofa, while Connor, dressed in plain light-blue pajamas, sits on the couch beside him in a calculated manner.  _

 

ANDERSON ( _ To us _ ): We secured a flat on the outskirts of Ann Arbor near Detroit. That way, we could escape the prying eyes that knew who I was and live somewhere with thicker walls. That’s what Connor advised, anyways. Sometimes in the evening when I would come back from work, Connor would just talk, just like he always did. He always had something in his mind. Or maybe, he was just trying to probe me, find out my opinions and beliefs on things. He just wanted to know, even though it seemed that he already knew everything. 

 

CONNOR: It’s difficult to understand whether androids act on their own accord, or act on their programming. 

 

ANDERSON: Well, androids aren’t supposed to “act on their own accord,” right? 

 

CONNOR: I meant independently. While they still have programming, androids are meant to adapt to situations presented to them. There isn’t programming for every single situation, is there?

 

ANDERSON: Hell if I know. You know more about those tin cans than I do. 

 

CONNOR: I suppose. I just like presenting my thoughts to you. 

 

ANDERSON: And boy, do you got a lot of ‘em. Hey, you ever gonna tell me about what you do for a living? 

 

CONNOR: It’s nothing much. 

 

ANDERSON ( _ To us _ ): That’s the usual answer. I should just learn to stop asking at this point. I never seemed to get a clear answer from him, and for a reason that was never obvious to me until much later. 

 

_ Connor gets up from the couch, his back turned to Anderson as he continues to speak.  _

 

CONNOR: Many people have a fear that androids will rule the world some day. Do you think it’ll happen? 

 

ANDERSON: Who knows? If we don’t win this war, then God, Detroit will be a fucking shitstorm of a mess. It’ll almost be like an android capital. Jesus. 

 

CONNOR: I suppose that just means you have to win this war, then. You’re in a very important position, Lieutenant. 

 

ANDERSON: It’s Hank, I told you already. 

 

CONNOR: Well, yes. But I thought it would have been appropriate to call you that in this instance, since I was referring to your position in the war, after all. 

 

ANDERSON: Yeah, yeah. Cheeky bastard. 

 

_ Connor moves upstage while Fowler enters, sitting at a desk. Anderson gets up from the couch, standing up to speak with Fowler.  _

_ A barrack. Detroit. 1974.  _

 

FOWLER: What’s the status? 

 

ANDERSON: We’ve managed to hold the androids back on our side. They’re camping out in their makeshift barricades. I think they’re waiting for us to make the first move. 

 

FOWLER: They’re always one step ahead of us, huh? 

 

ANDERSON: What do you expect? They’re fuckin’ machines. 

 

FOWLER: Well, we’re not going to give into their tricks. Just play their little waiting game. I don’t care how long it takes or if it’ll be the stalemate of the century, but we’re not risking any more lives. Every day these things just get scarier and scarier. 

 

ANDERSON: Tell me about it. Reed’s shitting his pants every time he goes out there and sees one of those things holding a gun. 

 

FOWLER: And, Hank? 

 

ANDERSON: Yeah? What’s up? 

 

FOWLER: There are. . . rumors going around. I just wanted you to confirm them or not. 

 

ANDERSON: Great. Gavin running his mouth again? 

 

FOWLER: Not like anything’s different. ( _ Pause _ ) Are you living with another man in Ann Arbor? 

 

ANDERSON: Aw, Jesus. ( _ He sighs, shaking his head _ ) Fowler, you’re not looking at me in  _ that _ way, are you? 

 

FOWLER: Well, no- of course not. I’ve known you for too long now, I know you. I just wanted to confirm. 

 

ANDERSON: Well, yeah. I am. I just had to get out of the old place for a while. Air’s too heavy in there. Besides, affording a flat by myself is too much. 

 

FOWLER: Alright. Don’t worry about it, Hank. I know it’s nothing. Keep on it, and let me know if the androids start pushing forward. ( _ He exits _ ). 

 

ANDERSON ( _ To us _ ): I knew Gavin would get his grubby hands on this information one way or another. I had to lie to Fowler about this, but how could I not? I’d lose my position and go straight to jail. I wouldn’t trust Gavin to lead anything, but with me gone, he would just let everything go to flames. ( _ He starts to move downstage towards Connor _ ). So, over the-- 

 

_ Suddenly, Amanda enters. Anderson backs away.  _

 

ANDERSON ( _ To Connor _ ): No! Why the hell does she have to come in?! 

 

CONNOR: Hank, be sensible. How can they understand the story without her? You’re only embarrassing yourself. 

 

ANDERSON ( _ To us _ ): Now you’ll all see why my story’s so funny to so many people. Why they think the whole thing is bogue, and I’m just some stupid topic people bring up at parties to get a good laugh. Try to understand it from my point of view. We’re all prisoners of our own humanity here. ( _ He exits _ ). 

 

_ Anderon and Connor’s flat. Ann Arbor. 1974.  _

 

CONNOR ( _ To us _ ): 1974. The flat that Lieutenant Anderson rented for us. An evening after he’s gone to take care of his men. I’m alone, but not for long. 

 

AMANDA: Have you gathered any interesting information, Connor? 

 

CONNOR: Yes. It’s quite evident that Lieutenant Anderson harbors homosexual feelings. 

 

AMANDA: You’re quite sure of this?   
  


CONNOR: Very sure, Amanda. 

 

AMANDA: Good. It looks like you’re fulfilling your purpose quite well. 

 

CONNOR: Thank you, Amanda. 

 

AMANDA: Try to gather more information on him. We need as much evidence as we can. 

 

CONNOR: Of course. Though, I don’t want to arouse suspicions. 

 

AMANDA: And if there’s anything that we need, we can check your memory? 

 

CONNOR: Of course. At any time. 

 

AMANDA: Do you need a new set of clothes? CyberLife can provide you with some. It may help you assimilate more into society. 

 

CONNOR: No, I’m fine. These are quite nice. 

 

AMANDA: I see. Just know that you’re our most advanced model. We don’t expect failure. 

 

CONNOR: I know. Lieutenant Anderson doesn’t mind my clothes.

 

AMANDA: Does he suspect you? 

 

CONNOR: No. There is only a 7% chance that he is aware of my inorganic composition. A 2% chance that he suspects me of local espionage. 

 

AMANDA: Good. CyberLife is quite proud of your success so far. So is the DPD. Though, we want you to continue gathering information for as long as you can. CyberLife doesn’t exactly want Detroit’s star Lieutenant out of a job just yet. They have a war to win. 

 

CONNOR: That they do. Will that be all? 

 

AMANDA: Yes. Don’t forget that both CyberLife and DPD are depending on you.

 

CONNOR: I won’t let you down, Amanda. 

 

AMANDA: I know, Connor. I know. ( _ She exits _ ). 

 

CONNOR ( _ To us _ ): What passes for human in modern Detroit. 

 

ANDERSON: Is she gone? 

 

CONNOR: Yes, Hank. Please continue in your own fashion. 

 

ANDERSON: Jesus Christ. I hate that woman. You would say you do too, huh? 

 

CONNOR: I’m not supposed to have a say in this concerning those kinds of perspectives.

  
ANDERSON: I know you’re not, Connor. ( _ He sighs _ ). I know. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank knows he's drifting from his wife, but is it worth it? It seems so obvious, being with the Perfect Man. It's an opportunity no one could ever pass up.

_ Ann Arbor. 1974-1975. _

_    Anderson moves to the couch where Connor sits upstage. Connor leans against Hank, resting his head on his shoulder.  _

 

ANDERSON ( _ To us _ ): And so, over two years, ‘74 and ‘75, we settled into our routine, Connor and I. He had food prepared for me occasionally, and we’d pleasure each other. Usually it was me, but he would always insist that he didn’t need me to help finish him off. Of course, I helped him regardless, in too many ways to explain. Fucking sad, too, given my situation, barely still married at this point. But mostly, we’d talk. About my life, not about his- a life that Connor claimed he didn’t have. A life that Connor seemed to start with me. 

   Maybe there’s nothing more rare than to find someone who passionately listens. 

 

_ Connor remains upstage, listening as Anderson gets up, heading downstage to play out a scene with his wife.  _

 

HANK’S WIFE: Hank, I visited the grief counselor this morning. 

 

ANDERSON: Why? Ah, God-- you know that stuff is hooey! He’s just trying to get your money. 

 

HANK’S WIFE: You know exactly why I went. I know you never liked the idea, but I thought it would be better than doing nothing. 

 

ANDERSON: And I told you, we’re not doing  _ nothing _ ! I’m just-- 

 

HANK’S WIFE: Trying to forget about it! You’re trying to forget about it, Hank. You’re trying to forget about  _ him _ . 

 

ANDERSON: I could never forget him. You know I never want to forget him. 

 

HANK’S WIFE: I’m sorry, Hank. But it’s true. You never want to talk about it. 

 

ANDERSON: Who would?! Our son got crushed in a car and you want to  _ talk _ about it?! 

 

HANK’S WIFE: Because we never talk about it, we’re stuck here, just slaves to our grief. I’m just trying to help us. 

 

ANDERSON: You don’t know what being a slave to grief is. To guilt.  

 

HANK’S WIFE: What do you mean? 

 

ANDERSON: Do you know how much I’ve drowned it? The guilt? It never leaves my head, and it just eats away at me. 

 

HANK’S WIFE: Then this is why we should go to the counselor! To get some help! I don’t want to see it take you over, Hank. 

 

ANDERSON: This fucker’s not gonna find anything wrong with you or me, I can tell you right now. 

 

HANK’S WIFE: It’s not a matter of anything being wrong, it’s just a matter of fixing things. 

 

ANDERSON: There’s no reason to fix anything that isn’t broken. People don’t break. 

 

HANK’S WIFE: I was just trying to make things better, Hank. But if you don’t want it, then I can’t do anything about it. It was only to help you feel alive again. ( _ She exits _ )

 

ANDERSON ( _ To Connor _ ): I’m a modern human, Connor. And yet, I don’t want to haul my ass over to some counselor. It’s the same old crap. I feel like God is laughing at me if I can’t get over this. 

 

CONNOR: We’re all obsessed by our odd desire to feel a certain way. You seek an absence of a certain feeling that every human takes for granted. ( _ Pause _ ) But still. Your wife can’t cope with loss, and she’s taking you with her?

 

ANDERSON: She’s already gone. 

 

CONNOR: And because the counselor is a new avenue, you now have to subject yourself to him? It’s unnatural, putting another human in charge of your own emotions. 

 

ANDERSON: Well, then what’s the “natural” solution? 

 

CONNOR: When a man finds that his wife is inadequate in appeasing his emotions, he turns to another, to help him feel. 

 

ANDERSON: What do you--? I can’t. . . 

 

CONNOR: You already have. Hank, I’m not asking you to be my husband. But I ask that you stay with me. I can help you cope, Hank. I may not understand everything, but I know. 

 

ANDERSON: Connor, I-- 

 

CONNOR: Do you want to be with me? 

 

ANDERSON: Yes, but what about the law? If I’m always with you-- 

 

CONNOR: You’ve never been concerned about the law. The law can’t stop us. If it hasn’t stopped us now, when will it? The law can’t stop you from  _ feeling _ , Hank. Nothing can. You make me  _ feel  _ like I’m something more, not just. . . 

 

ANDERSON: Just. . ?

 

CONNOR: . . . Nothing. Like nothing. As I should be.  _ (He exits _ ). 

  
ANDERSON ( _ To us _ ): The grief counselor? Of course I didn’t go. What man would? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was so short, but a very hefty and heavy chapter will be coming very soon,,,,


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank doesn't feel remorse. But that doesn't mean the disgust inside him doesn't fester. He's sorry.

_ Detroit. 1975.  _

_    Faint music is playing over the speakers. The lights are dim and colored, blue, pink, and purple seeming to merge over Anderson, who enters with a hesitant gait.  _

 

ANDERSON: 1975. An android sex club in Detroit. This was a frequent place for our men to go, it seemed. When they didn’t get satisfaction from killing androids in the war, they came here to take out their anger on androids in a different way, I guess. Most of these guys were gone from their wives for so long, and android junk seemed to satisfy them just the same. I wasn’t seeing my wife too often either, but I had Connor. Still, for some reason, I found myself here, feeling disgusting. But now I was feeling guilty for another reason, trying to push away the other guilt that seemed to never leave me. 

 

OWNER: First time? 

 

ANDERSON: First time here, yeah. 

 

OWNER: It’s $5.10 for every hour. Pay up front, pick an android and head to a vacant room. 

 

ANDERSON: $5.10 an hour? No discount for active men? Jesus Christ. . . 

 

_    He takes out his wallet, handing the man the money as he goes over to the androids standing in a line, static, barely clothed.  _

 

ANDERSON: I can’t believe I’m doing this. 

 

OWNER: That’s what they all say. Have a good time. 

 

ANDERSON: Yeah, yeah. 

   ( _ To us _ ) My heart was pounding. I’m old enough to reasonably die from a heart attack without anyone batting an eye, yet I put myself through this. For what? I didn’t even know. This was my first extra-extra-marital affair, and while I should have felt like shit, I didn’t. That was the worst part about it. 

   Connor didn’t deserve this shit from me. He didn’t deserve to wait there, alone at our place. The other part of me, though, is a fucking monster that wants to keep Connor on his toes, wants Connor to look through me and  _ know _ . We people love the excitement, love the attention. And even though I knew Connor loved my attention, the evil part of me wanted to deprive him of it for one night, to see him crawl back to me the next day. And like a fool, I thought he crawled back to me because he really did love me. Maybe he does love me. But there was more under that cool skin and those brown eyes than I could ever understand. More than anyone could understand. I was being selfish, but what else could I do? 

_    He looks to the scantily-clothed androids, all of them standing lifelessly, their stares blank. Anderson takes one with short, brown hair by the wrist, the android seeming to come to life at the touch as it follows him to their room. It wraps its arms around Hank’s right arm, looking up at him longingly.  _

 

ANDROID: Hello. Thank you for choosing me at the Eden Club, I’ll be sure that you won’t leave without having some fun. What’s your name, sir? 

 

ANDERSON: Hank. 

 

_ They slip past the curtains that hang in place of a door, leading to a room with a wide bed. The red light overhead coats the room in crimson.  _

 

ANDROID: Hello, Hank. How can I pleasure you today? 

 

_ The android sits down on the edge of the bed, leg crossing over another in a seductive manner.  _

 

ANDERSON: I just. . . ( _ He sighs _ ) 

 

ANDROID: What about fellatio? I’m sure it could ease your stresses. I’m here for you to do anything you’d like to me. Lay me out for your own whims. 

 

ANDERSON: I highly doubt that, but. . . 

( _ To us _ ) I had gone as far as to pay already. There was no turning back now. It’s the hardest thing trying to escape your own humanity. Humans try to use things that aren’t human just to feel alive. For some people, it’s a couple pills. For sorry fucks like me, it’s this. 

   Even after Connor offered, I was just so. . . afraid. He’s so much more human than this fucking tin can. But why couldn’t I go back to him now? I finally had someone possibly  _ love _ me, and here I am, ready to fuck it all up. I’m sorry, Connor.

  
_ The lights black out suddenly, leaving the stage in darkness and silence. Empty. Nothing.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for another short one, but just like every other chapter, it's still very important!!! leave your comments below and i'll get back to you!!! thanks for reading!!! <3 <3 <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank regrets. Connor knows.   
> Hank wishes he knew, but Connor knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's an art of a scene from Act 1 that i did on my instagram!!! if you wanna follow me, i'm @alchemtk !!!
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/p/Btgh9t8gKAY/?utm_source=ig_web_options_share_sheet

_ Detroit 1975. _

_ Anderson sits on the edge of bed of the Eden Club private room, dressing himself. His back is turned to the android who sits up on top of the blankets, slipping its bra back on. The lights are pulsating between purples and reds. Anderson clears his throat awkwardly.  _

 

ANDERSON: Well, uh. . . That was. . . nice, I guess. 

 

ANDROID: Thank you for using Eden Club’s services. There are six minutes and twenty-seven seconds remaining in this session. Would you like to utilize the remaining time? Or would you like to end the session early? You can also make a payment for an extra session. 

 

ANDERSON: Can I just use this time to. . . talk? Do you got a set of ears to listen? 

 

ANDROID: That isn’t in my programming. If you aren’t going to continue using me, then I am under Eden Club’s policies to end the session. 

 

ANDERSON: Wha-- You’re telling me you can’t just sit here and let me vent? It’s against the rules to just sit here and talk? 

 

ANDROID: If there is nothing being done for sexual pleasure, then-- 

 

ANDERSON: You know what? Just-- go. Fucking-- get out of here! Session’s over! 

_    The android gets up, unfazed as it walks out of the room. Silence. Anderson’s tense shoulders slump again as he buries his face into his hands.  _

 

( _ To us _ ) What was I expecting? This-- This  _ thing _ was just a fucking tin can. I was an idiot to think that I could tell this thing about my problem, my conflicts, my life. Sometimes, it gets hard to remember that they’re just machines, walking toasters with skin and nice eyes. Then they start talking, they start replaying that robotic message for you, or maybe they just give you that blank stare, and then you know that they aren’t alive. 

   What have I done?

_ Anderson gets up, grabbing a smoke from his pocket as he lights it, pacing.  _

__ This didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right at all. Why did I do it? For power over something? The illusion of humanity compared to a lifeless tin can? To tell myself that the people I loved were worth nothing at all? That  _ I  _ was worth nothing? I didn’t know. And for a while, I thought I would never know. How could I face Connor again? How could I walk into our living room and look into those brown eyes and ask for forgiveness? He would know-- Goddamn, he would know, because Connor seemed to know everything. I’ve never seen him angry, but fuck, I wouldn’t blame him if he put a gun up to my head. I didn’t deserve him, or anyone. But I love him, I want him to crawl back to me, be jealous of me. But fire never entered his eyes. That didn’t mean I didn’t see the life, though. Those eyes, though, definitely weren’t mirrors. I could never see myself in them. I only lost myself in them, those dark, soft brown orbs- abysses leading to the core of his nothingness that was  _ everything _ . He was  _ my _ everything. Everything that I didn’t have, everything that I  _ wasn’t _ . 

 

_ The lights fade. Darkness. When the lights come back, they appear upstage first, revealing Connor, who sits on the couch of their home. Alone, emotionless. But there seems to be some sort of distress in his figure as he keeps a hand in the middle of his chest, fingers digging harshly into the cloth of his clothes. He takes off the tie, tossing it aside as his hand, akin to a claw, continues to press into his center. His fingers seem as if they are trying to grab purchase of something beneath the layer of cloth.  _

 

ANDERSON: But I kept it up, wildly, for several months. Why? Because of  _ Connor _ . He knew the secret I was trying to hide- God knows if it was a secret anymore. Nothing was a secret to Connor. 

   But, unlike any normal individual, he didn’t confront me, threaten, even pout. I was starting to think it was hurting me more than it hurt him. 

 

FOWLER ( _ Offstage _ ): Hank! 

_ Fowler enters. Anderson, who is center stage in his uniform, turns towards him. During the next section, Connor lies down, one leg propped up and the back of his free hand pressed against his forehead. His brows are subtly furrowed as his clutch tightens.  On a coffee table in front of the couch sits five shot glasses, all filled halfway.  _

 

FOWLER: They’re killing the guy. 

 

ANDERSON: Who? Jefferey, who the hell are we talking about? What? 

 

FOWLER: Sorry about the late hour. But I thought I’d tell you the news. Champagne? 

 

ANDERSON: It’s fine. And I’m not a champagne guy. 

 

FOWLER: Figured. 

 

ANDERSON: What’s this about, huh? Who’s dead? 

 

FOWLER: The US allowed the Vietnamese generals to stage a coup and assassinate President Diem. 

 

_ There is a single beat. Fowler freezes. Anderson turns upstage and looks at Connor, who slowly and deliberately reaches over for a shot glass, fingers delicately wrapping around the glass before he brings it up to his lips. He downs it in one calculated motion, putting the empty glass back onto the table. He moves as if he were about to reach for another. He might. Anderson turns back to Fowler, who unfreezes.  _

 

ANDERSON: So what? What’s that mean for us back at home? 

 

FOWLER: Morale, Hank. These men might actually see an end in ‘Nam, and if they think one war is ending, then they’ll have hope that this one’ll end too. 

 

_ Another beat. Fowler freezes again as he brings the champagne flute up to his mouth. Anderson turns upstage, and Connor downs another shot.  _

 

FOWLER ( _ Unfreezing _ ): They’ll have a lot more hope in  _ you _ , Hank. God knows you need it. Control, that is. 

 

ANDERSON: Yeah, but what about you? Your word is basically law. 

 

FOWLER: Yes, but you see your men more than I see them. You’re out on the battlefield with them, I’m not. You’re in charge of their lives. 

 

_ Fowler turns away from Anderson, and eventually gets up, walking offstage, leaving Anderson alone center stage. Connor takes another shot. And another. His arm is shaking as he reaches for the last one, hand quivering. He downs it desperately, then hurls the small glass onto the ground. It shatters. Connor sinks down amidst the shards of the glass, emotionless, lifeless. Though, his hand reaches for the shards, grasping them gently.  _

 

CONNOR ( _ Softly _ ): Teach me. . . Teach me how to be alive. . . Teach me how to be human. . . 

 

_ Anderson turns downstage towards us. Connor grows inaudible.  _

 

ANDERSON: I left, almost stormed out. I thought we were best friends- yet, he just put all the burden onto  _ my  _ shoulders! I didn’t sign up for this shit! I wanted to help the people, help the country, not lead a bunch of men into suicide! 

   I started for the Eden Club. That was what I needed- androids that wouldn’t talk back to me, things that weren’t  _ alive _ , that couldn’t think for themselves. I needed something to contain my anger, my humiliation. But even then, even after I hadn’t seen Connor for too many fucking weeks to count, I headed for our home. To Connor. 

_Anderson enters their home._ _Connor is lying on the couch, head resting on the arm rest._

 

CONNOR: Oh! Hank. . . I think. . . I think I’ve been dreaming. 

 

ANDERSON: Drinking? You’ve been drinking? 

 

_ Anderson sees the bottle of whiskey on the table, turning it slightly to see the label before he looks back at Connor.  _

 

CONNOR: Oh, yes. Too much. I’ve never been like this, I just wanted. . . Oh, I  _ wanted _ \- No, I didn’t. But I wanted to see what it was like, why inebriation is such a past time. A craze. So human. Do you dream when you drink too much? Hank- it’s been three weeks and six days since you came home to visit me. 

 

ANDERSON: I know. There’s been a lot going on in the world. 

 

CONNOR: Fortunately, I believe I’m drunk. So I can speak freely, if that’s what is supposed to happen when you have too much alcohol in your blood. And maybe if I wait longer, the alcohol will quiet me altogether and plunge me into darkness. ( _ He pauses _ )

   It’s not the world, Hank. It’s you and I. And an old problem. Even the softest skin becomes like rusty metal to a man who has touched it too often. I confess- I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know how to become human- the human you want. 

 

ANDERSON: Connor, it’s not- 

 

CONNOR: But it is. You’re tired of me, God knows why. Is there something you want that I don’t have? Perhaps you’ve never loved me, and I’ve never loved you. I don’t know how to love, but I do what I can. 

 

ANDERSON: It’s not you, Connor. It’s- 

 

CONNOR: Then who is it? 

 

_ Connor sits up from the couch, one arm draped over the back of the couch to keep himself from falling forward.  _

 

Who else could it be but me? I’ve become inadequate for you. It must be that I talk too much. I’m not human enough for you and I’ll never be. I-

 

ANDERSON: Connor! 

 

_ Silence.  _

 

You’re the only one that matters to me. You’re the only one  _ real _ enough to deal with my shit, to talk to me like I exist. I love it when you talk, I could never get tired of you. 

 

CONNOR: What other lies do you have for me? I need water. I think I might. . . 

 

_ Connor tries to get up from the couch, but instead only falls to the floor, too disoriented. Anderson reaches down for him, but Connor only hangs his head low, eyes avoiding his.  _

 

ANDERSON: You drank too fucking much, Connor. 

 

CONNOR: You. . . You’re one to talk. You don’t think I don’t know what you do in the middle of the night? When you used to come home to sleep with me? You don’t think I didn’t notice the weight of the bed disappear, that I didn’t hear the cupboard and the glasses? I knew, Hank. 

 

ANDERSON: You knew. You always know. ( _ He scoffs _ ) You always know. 

 

_ Silence fills the living room before Connor speaks up again, shattering the glass window of quiet.  _

 

CONNOR: Is that what you wanted? You want to know? 

 

ANDERSON: No, I just want you. I want your everything. I’ve always wanted you. I’m sorry for my shit, I just. . . 

 

CONNOR: You were. . . scared? 

 

ANDERSON: No, I was-

 

CONNOR: Scared to know? 

 

_ Anderson is silent. Connor lifts his head, beckoning for the other man to come closer as he puts a shaky hand on Anderson’s face.  _

 

Humans don’t like to hear the truth. See the truth. But I’ll offer you only the truth, only if you’re willing to see it, Hank. I’ve been laying myself bare for you all this time, but I was only waiting for you to accept me. 

 

ANDERSON: I’m sorry, Connor. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

 

_ Anderson brings Connor into an embrace. Connor is cold and hot at the same time, but he doesn’t care. He wants him. Wants only Connor.  _

 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bigger chapter to reward those of you who were waiting for me to update ahahhhhh
> 
> AGAIN, LIKE ALWAYS, analysis, questions, comments, all of them are very VERY welcome!!! theyre what keep me going, so the more enthusiastic people are for this, the more i will mull over my own creation and continue to write with fuming motivation ahaha


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank tries to reason without reason. Connor is always right and Hank knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the art i did!!!
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/p/Btgh9t8gKAY  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BtxeA3ggEJP  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/Buo-iizg2gg
> 
> (i hope those links work???)

_Anderson and Connor’s flat. Ann Arbor. 1975._

_Downstage, Connor leans against the armrest of the couch as Amanda stands in front of him, hands folded over her front as she examines him from her place. Upstage, Anderson is kneeling. He remains on his knees throughout the scene, watching it._

 

CONNOR: I need a thirium cleanse.

 

AMANDA ( _In her own thoughts_ _aloud_ ): He’s been spotted going to an android sex club in Detroit.

 

CONNOR: I need a thirium cleanse.

 

AMANDA: Often active men paid a visit to such a place to occupy themselves. Homosexual activity there may be paid off to prevent public news.

 

CONNOR: I need a thirium cleanse.

 

AMANDA: And. . .

   

_She seems to pay mind to his words now, brows furrowing in frustrated confusion_.

 

What do you mean you need a thirium cleanse?

 

CONNOR: Tell CyberLife that I need my thirium streams cleansed. I drank too much. Systems are functioning at 24% of normal capacity.

 

AMANDA: Drank? Why?

 

CONNOR: It’s a past time that many humans indulge in. I thought it would help me appear more natural.

 

AMANDA: And you risked system damage for that? That’s quite a gamble, Connor.

 

CONNOR: He loves me. He really does love me.

 

AMANDA: That was what you were supposed to evoke from him, yes.

 

    _Pause._

 

CONNOR: He told me that he was sorry.

 

AMANDA: For his extended infidelity?

 

CONNOR: Perhaps.

 

AMANDA: No matter, is that all?

 

CONNOR: Yes.

 

AMANDA: Fine. We will go to the CyberLife tower to get your thirium cleansed.

 

CONNOR: Amanda? Why are androids used to play the roles of humans?

 

AMANDA: Perhaps it is for practical reasons. Or, for--

 

CONNOR: No. ( _Beat_ ) Because, at times, androids know how to be more human than humans themselves.

 

    _Amanda exits. Before Connor follows her out, he turns upstage, towards Anderson._

 

ANDERSON ( _Calling after Amanda_ ): Yeah, get the hell outta’ here! ( _To Connor_ ) I could forget all that betrayal in an instant, you know. If you’d just come back again, if you could be my Connor.

 

CONNOR: It’s near impossible, Hank. You’re here in prison, rotting away in a cell. And I’m at CyberLife, sitting in dormancy. My actions are still to be reviewed.

 

ANDERSON: Yeah, yeah. I know.

 

CONNOR: But what about you? How are you feeling?

 

ANDERSON: Take a wild guess. Don’t you, even just a little bit, wish you were here with me?

 

CONNOR: I’m not allowed to say. But it doesn’t matter what kind of answer I give, does it? You still love me. That’s why I. . . ( _He shakes his head_ ) Nothing. So-- you were telling your audience about the night you found me inebriated.

 

    _Anderson puts his arms around Connor’s waist. Connor reciprocates. He leans on Anderson._

 

_The scene is the same._

 

ANDERSON: I’ll divorce my wife. We’ll live together here. Hell, we could move away too.

 

CONNOR: Hank. I. . .

 

ANDERSON: What?

 

CONNOR: You can’t. Not for me.

 

ANDERSON: Why? You said it yourself.

 

CONNOR: What about your family? You have your son to go home to, not me.

 

ANDERSON: My son is dead, Connor.

 

CONNOR: I know.

 

ANDERSON: Wha-- You do? Since when?

 

CONNOR: You told me months ago when you were drunk one night after sex.

 

ANDERSON: Figured. ( _Pause_ ) Then why do you say I still have a son to go home to if you know? Is it one of your jokes or something?

 

CONNOR: No. But your wife will be the only remnant of your son you have. You would leave her for me?

 

    _Anderson remains silent for a moment. The silence is so weighty that it feels as if it could drop on his head at any moment. But he loves Cole._

 

ANDERSON:. . . Yes. I would- any day.

 

CONNOR: But Hank--

 

ANDERSON: My wife is not my son. I don’t need her to keep his memory alive. I have my own guilt already.

 

CONNOR: All you do is swim in your guilt.

 

    _Connor pulls away from Anderson, though keeps his hands on the other’s arms for support, both his own and Anderson’s._

 

Hank, it wasn’t your fault.

 

ANDERSON: Yeah, yeah. How many times am I going to hear that from everyone?

 

CONNOR: As many times as it takes for you to believe it.

 

ANDERSON: Why are you doing this?

 

CONNOR: You know why. I know you know.

 

ANDERSON: Yeah? Well _I_ don’t think I know why.

 

CONNOR: You do.

 

    _Connor leans against Anderson again, resting his head in the crook of his neck. Anderson brings his arms up slowly to wrap around the other. His expression is pained. Connor shows merely a fraction of what Anderson has on his face, but Anderson knows he feels when Connor curls his fingers into his back and lets out a soft breath._

 

ANDERSON: I don’t deserve you.

 

CONNOR: No, you don’t. But that won’t stop me from doing anything you wish. Do I sound silly, a slave, if I say that _I’m_ not worthy?

 

ANDERSON: Yeah. Yeah, you do. No one’s loved me like you.

 

CONNOR: Thank you. And no one ever will. I’ll see to that.

 

ANDERSON: So what’s the goddamn problem, then?

 

    _Connor pulls away again, looking up at Anderson’s face with a vague furrow of his brows._

 

CONNOR: I’m a realist- I’m sure you’ve figured that much out. What would happen if you divorced your wife in favor of being with a young man?

 

ANDERSON: That’s not being realistic. That’s defeating yourself before you even start.

 

CONNOR: Perhaps. That’s why I say I’m not worthy. I’m worthy to be loved by you, but I’m not worthy to end the career of one of America’s most crucial Lieutenants.

 

ANDERSON: It’s not that great a career! I made it sound like more than it is!

 

CONNOR: Modesty will get you nowhere, Hank. While I don’t want you to leave, I feel that you should enjoy your time with your wife while you still have it.

 

_He exits, untangling from Anderson’s arms_.

  
ANDERSON ( _To us_ ): Connor and I argued all night. And, in the end, I knew that, no matter what, I could never be his husband, and that he was right. Still, I’d never wanted anyone as much as I wanted him. It’s possible. But it’s also possible that by this point, he could have said, could have done. . . anything, and I would have loved him still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn't the longest, but there's a lot to be said ahaha 
> 
> thanks to everyone who's still sticking around!!! i appreciate it so much, you guys embarking on this journey with me as i write in a format i've never written in before, and as i indulge myself in a niche au that I know not everyone will read/enjoy, but one that i have great fun in writing!! 
> 
> again, comments are very much appreciated and keep me going through this wild ride!!!

**Author's Note:**

> please!! analysis, comments, constructive criticisms, questions!! talk to me y'all,,, also, I swear I'll upload art at some point. will definitely be on here, might be on my instagram too, who knows lmao


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